Eldritch
by A Tired Writer
Summary: The little boy orders somehow making it appear as a suggestion, unbothered by the odd green quality everything has taken or even the blood on the walls. She answers realizing, belatedly, that this may have not been the best idea. He smiles widely, innocuously and places his hands behind her back before he looks behind him and back to her "Don't worry," he whispers. Hiatus


Eldritch: [adjective] unearthly, alien, supernatural, weird, spooky, eerie.

Etymology: of uncertain origin. Possibly from Middle English eldrich, from earlier elrich, equivalent to Old English el- (or Elf), "foreign, strange, other" + rīċe, "realm, kingdom"; hence "of a strange country, pertaining to the Otherworld" or "Fairyland"; compare Old English ellende, "in a foreign land, exiled" (compare German Elend, "penury, distress" and Dutch ellende, "misery"), Runic Norse alja-markir, "foreigner".

Rewrites are the bulk of my writing career. *Breathe*

* * *

She likes dreaming even if she doesn't understand them. She can be anything here, here she can still fit in, still be in love, still see him. She can pretend her parents are happy with her, that she still has friends… that _he_ is alive. Anything and everything is hers to control.

_Perhaps it is _em_, who was born when church bells rang in the dead of night, mourning a soul no one knew._

_Perhaps it is _zim_, who was born in tragedy and agony bearing a cross that was too thick and heavy for another._

She frowns in her sleep and begins to toss and turn.

_Perhaps it is _-,_ who was born from the ashes and remained there in the stead of another._

_Perhaps it is _him_, who was born to ease his own guilt and wrongdoings; whose actions have laden down his cross and blocked his path like boulders._

A hand still her and places another on her brow. "As soon as you have questions you have your answers, don't you?" her frown is met with a smile "That will be our game."

_Perhaps it is _her_, who was born to die and be reborn much like a phoenix._

_Perhaps it is _I_, who was born like a dying star fading into the obscurity of night, no mark left from whence I came._

Distantly, memories slipping through her fingers like grains of sand, she can tell that she is not where she is supposed to be. Torn between feeling like she's floating and sinking. Darkness begins to blotch her vision and she struggles "No…I…"

_Perhaps it is _youw̶̸͕̤̖̫̺̃ͨͩͦ̊͗̽̅͞͞h̶̗͙̰̠̣͕̳̙̼̥̄̄͆̇̌ͅoͧ̈ͩ̽͗͛̂͛̔̍̓͜͠͏͇̼̺̱̻̤̯̤͓̳̣̮̪̰̥̪ ̵̡̛̱̩͕̩͇̹̺̻̗ͨ͐͑ͬͫ͆̎̎ͨ̿ͬ̿͂̒̕a̷̵̫̼̹̥̠̟̬̱̰̳̱͔̓̓̇͋̀̎͛̔͋̂̆ͩ̏́͗̓͜ ̸̡̡̠̻̩͈͇̝͎̻͍̯̱͚̦̫͚͔̭͇̾ͧ̿͊̑̂̔͒ͤͯ̅ͮͯ͞ģ̻͚͉͈͔̹̠͍̥̤̦̟̳̠͕̱ͧ͊ͯͣ̔ͮ́̓̌̀l̷͕̣̮͍̩̯̭̠̏̽͆̆̒ͬ͘͟͝i̡̞̦̤̣͓̰̥̭̝͉̪̜ͬͣ͊ͪ͗ͤͩͩ̀̈͑̄͗͝t̷̸͔͇͉͕͚͎̦̞̃ͬ̒̈̉̋ͬ͑̈́̈́̿͜cͬ̽͛̑̃͊̓̆̿̒҉̷͘҉̦͎͙̬̘̻͎̦̟̠̳̣͇̰̗̱̥̗ͅh̢ͪ̈́̃ͨ̐͌̐̈ͪ̈ͩ͋͋͝҉͓͖̗̠̕ͅ ͥ̒͂ͨ̉̾ͮ̐̔̏̀҉̶̤̻̗̬̫̬̱͈͠iͤ̀ͤͥ̀͐́̋̄͗̍̚͠͏̝͚͕̙̜͝n̙͍̩̙̻̤̼̲͕͈̠̤̻͖̼̪̓̓͒̾̐ͨ͂͊͛̋ͮ̓ͪ̑̿ͧ̐̀ ̡̛̞̤̭̞̾̇͛͐͒̀͡t͔͙͓̫͚̙̺̖̼̻̰̯͖̱̱͙̽̆͋ͫ͝h̨̞̦̞͕̯̥̖̲͕̥͍̅͌́͐̈́͊ͩ̈́͂ͩͨ́̚͡͝͞ẹ̗̞̘̹̠̭̦͈̞̳̽ͥͩ͂ͭͯ̅͋̈́̌̐͆̑̑͡͝ ̵͈̭̗̪̙̎̉̅̌̓͠͞

"Shush, you aren't needed anymore."

She's cradled in unseen arms and dragged further beneath the depths where warmth is nothing but a figment of imagination.

::

Saori closes her eyes tightly, kneeling at the altar. A loaf of bread, a cup of water, burning incense and a tie are on the altar with a worn picture held upright by a burning candle. "God our Father," she recites in broken speech, her hands clenched so tight her knuckles have turned white and her nails dig into her flesh as she continues to pray "In company with Christ," she startles quite badly when the church bell rings breaking through the silence. She exhales shakily and her eyes close before she scrunches them tightly, seeing spots dance in her vision behind closed lids. "Unite us together again in one family," the bell rings again and she is sorely tempted to cover her ears. The sound is maddening, deafening.

"Amen." She whispers into the cold room and shudders.

::

The church bells sing as she leaves; back straight and head held high, the sisters and the pastor bid her goodbye and a safe journey in the language she still can't understand let alone speak fluently. The rosary tied around her wrist feels like a vice as the cross swings back and forth as she walks away, back towards her homeland.

_Chimes ring sweet on this humble soul, as curtains close on peaceful days so do the curtains raise another._

Out of her peripheral she spies a blue butterfly and feels the base of her brain tingle and then gasps when her lungs grow cold, she clutches a fist over her heart and struggles to control her breathing. "I'm fine. I'm fine."

::

She knows not to expect a warm welcome, such trivial things had ended so very long ago. She is met with cold faces and indifference, she bows to them hating the formality but she sticks to it. Something is different. She eyes her parents discreetly.

Her father is the same but her mother—there is a pain that erupts on the right side of her brain and she bites her lip savagely so as not to cry out. Ignorant to her pain they lay out their rules: She is not to shame them again, she is not to go out and she is not to act on her own. She will be a proper Japanese maiden or she will be shipped off once more and no longer be able to return home. She nods and goes to her room.

It is devoid of life, devoid of her things. Like always.

The room flickers like static when she closes her eyes, the birds pause in their singing; cruel hands take a deck of cards. She lays on her back and inhales deeply as her hands tremble but the area around her freezes like someone has pushed pause on a video.

Scars that were not there before burn themselves into her back, the faces of familial members change. She feels a void enter her being taking a piece of her soul.

And as if someone has pushed play when she opens her eyes, everything is normal. As it should be, as it is known to be.

As she replaces the few belongings she managed to take, when she turns away from the photo of her sires; the pictures gains a fuzzed quality and retakes shape.

She dreams of whispers in the night, dulcet in tone yet filled with venom. She sees ghosts long passed rise and dance again in the moonlight, singing in damaged voices under a different moon. She sees masks upon masks be placed in a shrine, in a city, that never existed.

At least, not here.

As she turns around her eyes widen and she sees a monstrous grin "Oh, sweetheart, the game hasn't even started yet."

::

_"Did you ever consider the fact that you weren't meant to exist?"_

_"Humans go through life wondering if they exist, do you?"_

A year passes without her really paying it any mind; judgment clouded by rumors have drowned out the truth but there are no tears, no cries of unfair and unequal treatment. _This is Japan, social status means everything._

Memories of what has never happened have appeared in her mind yet never overshadowing the ones that have passed.

Hiding away beneath the bed, sanity lies and whimpers. Fate makes a mockery of fortitude and those who strive to change it. Cruel mouths blow a kiss and spew forth smoke.

Yet still the curtain doesn't fall again.

Stuck between memories of hers and those of nobody, she tries figuring out what is truth and what isn't.

When she dreams she sees a hands crafting a metal mask; sharp, jagged and ugly filled with cracks that are covered by a different type and shade of metal.

_"Tell me, Saori, do you think you have the right to exist?" _Her eyes widen and her heart skips a beat when she sees him, just a faint outline barely audible over the sounds of the hammer pounding the metal.

"T-That-" _"Yes, I believe that everyone has the right to exist. Don't humans exist simply to prove their existence? To prove that they are worth existing, sensei?" _She sees herself smile, still a middle school student, young and a bit too naive.

_"Perhaps."_

::

Saori boards the 'Anehazuru' train without a thought and tenses feeling as if something has yanked at her wrist staring down at her rosary, the cross gleams in the lighting but it feels like it's growing heavier.

She turns to look out of the window feeling someone sit next to her and anxiety stirs within her gripping onto her lungs, she turns out of curiosity and the need to move and hunch into herself to move away from the person; next to her is a little boy with short black hair and arctic blue eyes. He kicks his legs to and fro, when he notices that he has her attention he gives her a carefree smile causing her to smile back reflexively. Then, she frowns wondering just what kind of parent leaves their child alone before she spies him staring at someone standing close to the doors.

Still feeling anxious, she pushes her worries away but when she catches his stare, gridelin grey meeting jaundiced eyes, a stabbing pain resonates from the back of her skull.

She winces a hand coming up as the pain spreads to the front, and covers one of her eyes. Almost as if the pain is trying to drill its way out of the top of her head, the boy smiles somehow maintaining eye. "Your humble days that were precious like gold dust," she tries standing only to notice that her body isn't moving, no one is. Everything is stagnant and the pain nearly blinds her. She blurrily spies the boy who takes her wrist idly toying with the cross of her rosary "are gone from here on out." he chortles as her soul begins to tremble.

Slowly, as if he were wordlessly trying to tell her that she shouldn't fear, he raises his hand and in and through her chest. She coughs knowing that his arm has gone straight through her heart and she screams as something enters and attempts to fuse itself within her, the boy fades in and out as she hears a honeyed, muffled laugh. Electricity shoots through her veins and she feels like she's dying.

Everything fuzzes around the edges and gains an obscure quality, and life resumes itself. She covers her mouth, trembling fighting back the urge to be sick as she tries regulating her breathing. Scanning the area around her with wide eyes but no one seems to notice, or care. She turns back to the boy only to find that he's gone.

'_I just made him up, a hallucination. That's all that he was, all that he __is__'_

She places a hand above her heart feeling like something lodged itself into her chest "Not real," she whispers "none of that was real." she repeats this mantra as she tries putting the event behind her, turning her attention out the window. Cold sweat still present and her trembling noticeable. The pain too real, his hand going through her chest as if it was just him putting his hand through water- "Not real. _**Not**_ real." She stresses clenching her hands into fists above her skirt focusing on the fact that the once heavily cramped train is now nearly vacant.

Still the feeling doesn't fade and she brings out the pamphlet to Iwatodai dorms. Mindlessly she toys with one of the pages, 'Will it end in a transfer like the last three or four?' she wonders sardonically eying the school and the emphasis on 'friendly environment'. She hears the automated voice call her stop and she rises on shaky legs trying to get herself under control as she begins walking out.

She checks the time overhead '11: 58' reads in bright blue letters.

_5...4...3...2...1..._

She adjusts her bag as she hurries along, even when it feels like the world is shifting and time is reconstructing itself; she begins to smile and then she hears a loud crash-

She gasps barely containing a shriek when everything turns green and the lights die; "A-ah," she gulps loudly fiddling with her bag "there, there must but a festival or an event here." She pacifies herself attempting to ignore the fact that no festival or event usually had these kinds of things. "Just an event." She stutters nodding as anxiety festers in her heart as she hurries up the stairs once she's out everything will be just as it should be perfect and-

She muffles a scream, the streets lined with coffins objects and blood. Her voice catches in her throat as she ignores everything around her, breaking out into a run nearly falling into blood and smacking into coffins. "Bad dream. Bad dream!" she skids to a haphazard stop seeing a boy with blue hair walking by as if nothing is wrong and then he seems to fade out like an old television turning off and in his place is a familiar yet unfamiliar girl with auburn hair who fades away as well.

Saori feels the urge to break into fierce sobs, to simply fall to her knees and scream because this isn't right. "I'm not crazy." She states into empty air "I'm not crazy." She repeats panic coating her voice as she runs again and this time, she doesn't stop until she reaches the dorm and yanks the door open closing it.

With her back to the door she slides down the door and covers her face. "I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy." She tries regaining her breath; hearing her heart pound in her ears, she can taste blood at the back of her throat and practically feels her brain pulsating. She blinks back her scalding tears "This is all just a bad dream." She says running a hand through her hair and she repeats it twice more trying to gain some form of comfort from it.

"Hi, we meet again." She nearly screams and snaps her head up to see the boy from earlier giving her that innocent, carefree smile. "I've been told to wait for you." He nearly bounces on his feet, half hidden by the shadows of the room. He exits seeing as she isn't getting up off the floor, "State your name." the little boy orders somehow making it appear as a suggestion, unbothered by the odd green quality everything has taken or even the blood on the walls.

"H-Hasegawa Saori." She says realizing, belatedly, that this may have not been the best idea.

The boy smiles widely, innocuously and places his hands behind her back before he looks behind him and back to her "Don't worry," he whispers "you'll soon find the means of your existence." He says as he nears holding an orange folder "This is a contract," she whimpers and tries backing away, he inclines his head frowning before he smiles and places it near her feet ignoring how she jumps and hits the door. "There's no need to be scared. It only stands to remind you of your promise."

He opens the folder and steps away, placing his hands behind his back and rocks to and fro on the backs of his heels. "Don't worry, I won't be doing that again. I just needed to do what the butterfly told me to." Her heart pounds in her chest violently, she's tensed up and she can't move. Something warm grasps her hand and she tries looking down but there is nothing there.

A pen rolls and taps her knee. Her hand moves even though she isn't willing it to, she begins to breathe quickly as the pen presses to paper and signs her name. Her hand falls back to her side uselessly and the pen disappears as does the warmth that was holding her hand. Her lungs feel like they'll collapse and she can't breathe properly.

The boy waves a hand and she can only watch as the folder appears in his hands "What are you?" she croaks, trembling and he seems to sadden as he steps away from her.

"I don't know myself." He answers as he brings the folder closer to his chest "Remember, even when everything gets tough and there seems to be no way out, remember that you made a promise." He smiles as he slowly melts into the darkness.

She gasps as she falls back and stares into gunmetal grey eyes, she gives the blue haired boy a breathless smile and faints.


End file.
